


With a Whimper

by Sarita1046



Category: The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
Genre: Animal Death, Bisexual Male Character, Biting, Cunnilingus, Desperation, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss of Virginity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riding, Water Sex, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarita1046/pseuds/Sarita1046
Summary: Marty scoffed. “Society’s obsession with the female virgin is astounding.”Through her bleary haze of smarting skin, a thought occurred to Dana. “Think it could have worked with a male virgin?”
Relationships: Marty Mikalski & Dana Polk, Marty Mikalski/Dana Polk
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.” ~ T.S. Eliot

When whatever atrocity broke through from below with a deafening crash that shattered the sound of crumbling cinder, Dana fully expected all existence to wink out. 

Whether utter nothingness or transportation of her suddenly intangible form to an entirely different plane, she certainly didn’t expect – well, to feel every damn jolt and crack as her shoulder blades made contact with the ground outside.

Worse than Disneyland’s Space Mountain, a terror of a ride whose appeal she’d never understood, the fact that the unforgiving forest floor didn’t obliterate her spinal cord seemed a miracle. Perhaps second only to the rattling breath she drew despite the ache and burn that tore through every limb. 

From the impact with the ground or the wolf’s bite, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was every centimeter of flesh felt on fire. Only when the sound of those colossal, stampeding footsteps finally faded into the distance did she go to draw a breath – and realize her chest couldn’t expand due to a weight strewn over her middle.

Eyes widening at the stillness of Marty’s form atop hers, Dana grasped him around the collar and shoulder to practically throw him off of her.

“Marty!” she stage whispered, eyes darting around the darkness between the trees to try and avoid drawing any lingering creatures. “Marty, don’t you _fucking_ die on me! I am _not_ doing this alone.”

God, that wound on his back was letting off a rancid stench she had no idea how she could smell beneath all of the gore and grime on their bodies.

After what seemed like a full minute of shaking his shoulders almost as much to distract herself from the stinging along her skin as to rouse him, Marty’s eyes snapped open. 

Drawing in a massive breath and sitting bolt upright, his green eyes gradually focused on her. “Dana? Wait…we’re not dead?”

“I don’t think so,” she managed, tears welling in her eyes in both relief and continued agony. 

“Hey, hey,” he seemed to notice her quaking form, “what’s wrong? Damn it, the fall. We’re outside. We must have gotten thrown—”

“We did,” she cut him off, forcing an inhale to quell the shakes, to little avail. “I took most of the damage.”

Marty’s eyes swept her form. “You look…fine. I mean, no broken bones? Shit, did I fall on you?”

Nodding, Dana barely masked a retch that clawed its way up her throat.

“Dana, talk to me,” Marty rubbed her back. “This doesn’t look like it’s from a fall.”  


“The bite…” she managed, barely above a whisper.

“Dana,” she thought she could hear his voice break, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” she gave a weak smile, “I may have just killed you if you hadn’t let it attack me.”

His hand found its way into hers, fingers lacing through her own. 

She choked down some extra saliva, forcing her breathing to calm enough to utter her next words. “I’m…not hurt like I should be. The bruises from the zombie, too…”

With her free hand, she reached to the back of her neck to feel beneath the crusted blood from the bite.

“They’re gone,” she finished, fingers brushing over the faint, painless ridge of a new scar from the bite that had been draining her life less than an hour ago. 

“It’s infectious,” Marty deadpanned, securing to his waistband the pistol that had somehow not been lost amidst the rubble.

Would he use that on her? It might be wisest.

Clearing her throat against yet another wave of nausea, Dana finally lost the battle as she doubled over in a fit of dry heaves. Idly aware of Marty’s fingers threading through her hair that he held away from her face as she spat out bile, she drew in yet another calming breath. At last, the quaking and chills seemed to subside as the fire dulled, if only a little.

“It’ll all be okay,” Marty murmured, and she had to wonder if he was talking to her, himself, both or neither. 

Focusing on the sound of his voice to keep from losing her last shred of sanity, Dana swallowed hard. 

“I don’t know why we’re still here,” she muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest as Marty nonchalantly cradled half her body against his shoulder. 

“As in, why the world didn’t fall out of existence?”

“Or why all the humans and animals on the planet didn’t at least wink out,” she decided, gazing up at the crescent moonlight dappling through the forest canopy above. 

Were those screams she heard in the far distance? Who could tell? She was likely becoming a monster, and the powerlessness to stop it seemed to solidify into numbness like cement dried on the wrong sidewalk.

“Maybe,” Marty began, and she found herself oddly drawn to his musk, a distinct scent that met her nose beneath all of the grime. “…Maybe we would have stopped existing. I mean…Patience was probably a virgin based on that diary, and that director person…”

“Was a fool for thinking she could control any of it,” Dana finished, thankful for something to focus on besides that maddening scent and the fire still encasing her limbs. 

“You gotta wonder what forced those things underground in the first place,” Marty mused, as she sighed at the small relief of a gentle breeze across her sweaty forehead. 

“We were probably just an experiment,” Dana shifted, barely realizing how she turned her head to the side to inhale a whiff from Marty’s neck.

“They’ve just been toying with us this whole time,” Marty said, as her fingers played over the back of his hand. “Seeing how far we could go to appease them.”

“Guess they got tired of watching us screw up,” Dana felt him shiver at the way her breath played over his throat. 

“That sacrifice may have ironically worked,” Marty almost sounded like he wanted to laugh, “but those _gods_ escaped for some reason, and I think it’s because that zombie chick was technically already dead.”

“Well, I wasn’t technically a virgin,” Dana replied, finally resting her head on Marty’s shoulder. “Yet they were willing to take me.”

Marty scoffed. “Society’s obsession with the female virgin is astounding.”

Through her bleary haze of smarting skin and aching in increasingly embarrassing places, a thought occurred to Dana. “Think it could have worked with a male virgin?”

Welcome silence fell over the trees like velvet for a tranquil few moments.

Marty’s next words confirmed her suspicion. “They had one right there the whole time.”

That was when she turned to face him, thankful for the cooling of the wind on her cheeks. “Wow,” she hoped her grin didn’t come off as too idiotic in the dark. “Really? Never?”

“Everything but,” Marty smiled back, gaze faltering just a bit. “I mean, in the biblical sense.”

Another pause ensued as she frowned in confusion. “Biblical? Whose religion? I’m not sure those things down there…”

“Reproductive stuff, I guess,” Marty said, quieter than before. “Yeah, this definitely didn’t come out in that truth or dare session.”

“Wait, so like…” Dana vaguely realized the pointlessness of this conversation when the need to find shelter during an apocalypse should be taking top priority. “Back door only? Maybe they should have picked another girl from our school for this…”

“Not with girls,” the words escaped Marty in a rush, though she didn’t miss the corner of his mouth perk up in the ghost of a smile. “Also, talking about “back doors” makes me feel like we’re indulging in high school gossip again, so thanks for lightening the mood.” 

To hell with shelter, the apocalypse was already here. For some reason, now seemed like the perfect time to give into that painful curiosity. Which smarted just a tinge less than the fever from the bite. 

“But…Jules?” she tried, appreciating the stillness of the night as she resolved to imagine her friend in a context that didn't involve dismemberment.

“I haven’t discriminated a whole lot,” Marty replied, fingers rising to play again over the back of her neck. “But it was always easier with guys. An added benefit is they tend to have the most pot.”

“So, Jules turned you down?” Dana ventured, leaning into his touch, only vaguely recalling how somehow despite many nights hanging with him, Jules and Curt as a group, these were all far more personal details than she'd ever learned about Marty.

“I didn’t want to go further, so I made up that whole thing about a promise ring," he replied. "It was a joke, though. She was really understanding about the whole thing, ironically, it probably made our friendship stronger.”

“So, you’re just not into women? That’s cool.” If she weren’t so exhausted, the disappointment in the face of this ache between her legs would have hit her harder.

“I didn’t say that,” Marty said. “I…I don’t know. I’m fucked up, Dana. In case the self-medicating weed habits hadn’t clued in everyone.”

“It’s not addictive,” Dana tried to lighten the situation. “Anyway, it’s not like it matters now. Who the hell is gonna judge? Look, if you’re gay, that’s not being fucked up.”

“It’s not that,” Marty said. “It’s more that I don’t know what I am. I…there was this whole thing with my parents when I was little.”

“Divorce?” Dana guessed. “Same here, my dad left when I was in kindergarten. The school counselor thought that was why that whole mess happened with the professor. ‘Attraction to older men’ and all. Too bad he wasn’t mature enough to mention the wife and college-age daughter. I really didn't mean for it to happen the way it did...but it made me start to realize sociology was probably too vague of a major, anyway.”

She tried not to dwell on how Holden had only joined this whole disaster at Jules and Curt's insistence as a way to help Dana move on. On how he had saved her back at the cabin only to be eviscerated—

“Probably beats philosophy", Marty smirked, and she had to wonder if he realized how often he tried to sound like a philosopher.

More silence passed, as she thought she heard a bat or two squeaking in the night sky above. Really, she appreciated the distraction from the maddening, recurring memory of their three friends meeting horrific ends.

"Your dad missed out,” Marty’s next words reached her ears on a gentle breeze.

For some reason, that statement broke the dam, as the flood of tears poured down her cheeks.

“Damn it, I’m probably gonna have a horrific scar on my back.” Her voice cracked, harsh against her ears.

“Battle scars.” She could hear the smile in his tone.

“What-what happened? I mean, why do you self-medicate?” Dana asked, desperate to mask the quiver in her voice, though she figured he could make out the tears in the darkness – if he looked her in the eye for more than two seconds, anyway.

“My…there were multiple incidents with a babysitter. She had a kink for kids. My sister never admitted to anything, so maybe just boys. She liked to call me Martin.”

“That’s gross,” Dana said, immediately disappointed with her word choice. “I’m sorry to hear that, Marty. Did you tell anyone?”

“My mom,” Marty replied, finally meeting her gaze again. “She confronted my dad, and I guess he was screwing around with the chick too because he went nuts on me. I had to stay out of school for a week. I think he sold his last bar to pay off my college loan and get me out of the house.”

"You didn't leave?" Dana asked before thinking how much it really didn't matter at this point.

Marty shrugged. "The only thing I ever really thought I'd be good at was law, because arguing...but then I figured it might just be me trying to compete with my sister, the doctor. Plus, law and dyslexia don't mix too well. She had no issues getting motivated to leave. My father probably wanted her to be the one to stick around. At least I got her car." 

“Why are people so terrible?” Dana wondered aloud, just as the silence began to overwhelm.

“Maybe these new gods won’t be such a loss,” Marty said, as she finally shrugged out of her blouse.

Letting out a wail at the white-hot burn that shot down her spine, she soon realized the fabric had evidently fused with crusted blood, taking a good chunk of her first layer of skin.

“We gotta find you some water to rinse off…”

“I’m going to…” she choked on her next words as she stood up, “I’ll be mutilated, and if…if I turn into…”

Without another word, Marty grabbed her right hand, forcing it up under his shirt at an angle where his lower back met his hip. His fingers pressed down on her own through the fabric, as her palm brushed across what felt like raised welts on the surface of the flesh.

Trying to ignore the heat emanating from his body, Dana licked her lips. “Did your dad do that?”

The moment she lay her head against his chest, he rested his forehead in her hair, her hand still under his shirt.

“There’s a reason I didn’t join you guys in the lake,” he murmured, quiet voice vibrating across her skull, sending shivers down her nape.

“Do you want to take a dip with me?” she asked, glancing over at the lake that sparkled not too far from where they stood. 

How that giant creature hadn’t eradicated the body of water with one step, she had no idea. All she knew was she needed to feel that cool caress of the water on her skin. 

“What if those things come back?” Marty breathed, and she didn’t miss the shiver that passed over his form as she withdrew her hand.

As soon as she waded into the water, Dana turned to smile up at Marty joining her, still as clothed as before. “You’re gonna make me feel all exposed here,” she teased. “No one’s going to judge you, Marty. That part of the world is over.”

Contemplation flashed in his eyes, before he relented, removing his shirt, shoes and jeans, as she basked in both triumph and relief at the chilled water against her back. 

When he glanced down toward the rippling lake, she took that moment to make up his mind for him and took his hands to draw him further into the water. Keeping their grip intact as he submerged for a few moments to come up with his face relatively free of dried blood, Dana heard her own sharp inhale. For whatever reason, his action of rising from the water with hair all tousled seemed to tip off whatever animalistic instinct had been simmering just beneath the surface of her consciousness. When one of his hands clasping hers broke free to gently scrub the blood from her cheeks with a thumb, all thoughts trained on his waist beneath the water.

“What if no one could hurt you again?” she spoke just above a whisper, as her right hand released his to drop below the lake’s shimmering surface and feel around inside his boxers. “What if we didn’t cheat death just to give in to someone else?”

“You might be on to something,” Marty’s breath hitched as her hand grasped his already hardening length. 

“We should be cold, shouldn’t we?” Dana mused, the pace of her hand already quickening. Before the fire set in, she would have likely begun with a kiss, but alas.

“It’s s-springtime,” Marty’s hands found her hips as he seemed to try and resist slumping into her. “Dana, it’s been—”

The spams that wracked his body came far sooner than Dana had expected, as Marty clearly struggled to control his breathing with a heavy sigh. 

“Wow,” was all Dana managed as she carressed him through the tremors, feeling the fire on her skin finally begin to dissipate a hair. 

“Sorry,” Marty muttered into her hair. “It’s been a while, and...I’m not used to sober—“

“Get back on the bank,” Dana purred in a manner that wasn’t entirely intentional.

Clambering out of the water, Marty barely had time to recline before Dana had shimmied out of her filthy capris to straddle his hips. Inwardly praying that he wouldn’t resist, Dana finally gave in to her screaming body and crawled up his torso to lean her pelvis over his face. Somewhat surprisingly, one of the hands beneath her rose to grasp her hip while the other lifted aside the crotch of her panties.

Dana couldn’t say which sensation struck her center first - the cool night air or the warm, moist tip of a tongue. Either way, her hips wasted no time in rolling into a maddening rhythm that had him moaning possibly as loudly as her. Well, she was moaning with pleasure and approaching release – he could have been sobbing. 

When those languid strokes rose from caressing the folds of her entrance to circling her clit, she gripped his hair in a frenzy, as her climax struck so hard all of her limbs seemed to liquefy, her own guttural cry sounding in her ears. Not that she’d had a ton of experience with receiving or even giving oral, but this was something else. Finally taking the opportunity to collapse onto her friend’s torso and taste herself on his lips in a fleeting nuzzle before exhaustion claimed her, Dana knew – or at least had to believe for more than a mere moment – that she would be all right. 

That they would both survive this, and that no matter what happened, he would never leave her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical inspiration: "Disturbia" by Rihanna

The bizarre euphoria that accompanied the half-doze dissipated like molasses, until the hazy darkness swam away to reveal Dana's urgent expression framed by a halo of auburn hair.

"Marty, get up!" she hissed, already tugging on his arm, oddly warm figners pressing through the fabric of his sleeved shoulder.

"What's happening?" he forced himself awake with a few blinks of his eyes, mirroring her low tone as he gazed past her at the dark woods.

Without another word, Dana jerked her head toward the adjacent rim of the lake, still shimmering in the setting moon. Sure enough, about four grayish figures approached from the nearby tree line. Once he'd managed to pull on his damp clothes, he didn't have a chance to get a better look before Dana gripped his fingers like a vice, dragging him backward the few meters to the nearest tree with a shallow opening at the base of the trunk. Just big enough for two.

Resisting the urge to cough against the dank of the moss-ridden crevice, he leaned his ear against the top of Dana's head, as they watched the figures cross to where the two of them had lain mere minutes before. As those things crept closer, the moonlight struck their transluscent skin and hairless bodies - just bodies with trunks, limbs and no heads. A frigid chill crawled down his spine, as they clambered up the bank, twisting those torsos toward his and Dana's hiding place.

If Marty didn't know any better, he could have sworn he heard a low growl rumble from deep in Dana's chest. Whether he chose to found that unnerving hardly mattered, as the creatures turned and back flipped into the lake.

Marty exhaled in audible relief, as Dana's hand slipped once again into his. "The world really isn't ours anymore," he whispered.

"Was it ever?" Dana asked, and he decided that was a rhetorical question.

Whether freakish brain children of that insane facility or products of this new world order, he didn't really have the energy or desire to contemplate. The impossible warmth of Dana's hand wasted no time in lulling him back to sleep.

Next came the gusting wind and sprinkling of scalding embers that shattered Marty’s fitful nightmare about shambling dead lumberjacks. 

Tearing awake, he barely masked a yelp as Dana pulled him to his feet and through the forest. Try as they might, whatever pieces of fire fell from the sky reached them through the forest canopy barely any less accurately than back at the lake.

“Up there!” Marty shouted, gesturing to a building, just visible in the mist beyond the break in the tree line up ahead.

When they finally reached the front steps of the building, Dana barely had time to remark before he pulled her inside. “Butcher’s shop, great.”

As soon as they crashed through the thankfully unlocked front doors, Marty pulled off Dana’s tattered cardigan before shedding his own jacket. Already, the fabric shone marred with holes the size of his pinky nail.

“Acid rain,” he breathed and took a seat on the bench by the entrance, swallowing at the putrid scent of rotting meat wafting from the back of the shop. “The end has begun.”

“At least it doesn’t seem to be able to eat through the ceiling,” Dana mused, fiddling with the sleeve cuff of her cardigan before making a beeline for the water fountain in the corner of the room beside the farthest of several dangling sacks of meat.

“Careful, we don’t know if that’s been contaminated,” he warned, to no avail.

Marty’s eyes shifted over the pale skin at the back of her neck, as she pulled her auburn hair over one shoulder to drink. Bite entirely healed beneath the crusting scabs. Nipples rigid through her soaked top...

“You’re not hurt,” he stated, more bluntly than intended. Already, his characteristic anxiety that drove the weed vice bubbled at the back of his mind with a vengeance, barely masked by the sweetness of her scent reaching him from across the short distance.

She didn’t meet his gaze, instead staring ahead as she sat beside him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I felt the sting, but…I guess that stuff doesn’t really get to me anymore.”

Marty cleared his throat, suddenly aware of an aching tickle as he swallowed. At least the sear of the stab wound on his back had finally started to ebb.

“Does it freak you out?” she asked, quieter this time.

If he hadn’t known how to respond before, he figured now was definitely a great time to bite his tongue.

“You can leave, Marty,” Dana spoke again, voice like a bell in the dank quiet of the space. “I’d get it.”

“Dana, I’m not leaving you. Where would—”

“So, are we just not gonna talk about last night? Are you not wondering why that happened?”

He shifted to quell a shiver that encased his nape and not due to the chill outside.

“I mean…didn’t you have fun?” He risked glancing sideways at her, desperate to lighten the mood. 

Her blue gaze met his, as he convulsively swallowed again. Dry, sore. Hopefully not the flu in a desolate world with very little chance of a hospital should things go downhill. 

When her face broke out into a grin, he didn’t know whether to return the smile or move away. Thoughts suddenly drawn back to her strength back by the lake, a weight he likely couldn’t have and admittedly hadn’t wanted to escape. “It makes sense, Marty. The last two humans on Earth…”

“Dana, we have no idea if that’s true,” Marty said, leaning back on the bench for some semblance of relaxation amidst the ache in his muscles. Trying not to think of his mother or his sister. “We were just saying how the ritual seemed to have gone down with some middle ground where we didn’t all just vanish. Who’s to say there aren’t millions of survivors out there?”

“So, you’re saying we should find them?” Dana probed, already snuggling up against his shoulder with a languid stretch.

Determined to turn his face away enough to suppress a shiver at the sharp spice of her scent without her noticing, Marty shifted against the wooden bench. “We can wait out the rain in here.”

Dana sat up, looking off toward the back room. “You smell that?”

As if on cue, a long drone sounded from the back of the shop. No way.

“Is there something alive back there?” Marty rose off the bench along with Dana. 

Through the already dimming fluorescent lighting, he was glad the shadows didn’t seem as dark as he may have expected. Then again, after escaping that underground horror show, maybe everything seemed a bit brighter.

Sure enough, the moment they eased around the several swinging, fetid sacks, the tantalizing smell of steak flooded his nose.

Glancing around the small space, Marty wasn’t surprised to see even more blood – hopefully this time from the business. Only this area smelled more like cooked meat…

Instead, a live cow hanging by its four hooves greeted them from the center of the room.

“No!” Dana cried, moving toward the beast. “We have to cut her down!”

“Dana…” Marty began. “We don’t even know who left it here. What if it’s a trap?”

“They’re all gone,” she insisted, already circling around to grab a hefty knife from one of the several water basins. “All the people ran off, and those assholes just left a living thing to die.”

“I mean, at least she didn’t get decapitated,” Marty pointed out, still wondering why his mouth was starting to water in the absence of any real food. 

Not to mention the extra saliva sliding down his throat felt like fire. He tried and failed to stifle a cough, as Dana pulled over a chair from beside the far shelf. 

“You okay?” Dana’s blue eyes flitted over to him before returning to her task of standing on the rickety chair trying to make sense of the hooks entrapping the cow’s hooves.

“I read they knock out the cow first,” Marty mumbled, before thinking that may have been from some course whose reading assignments were largely lost to reefer. 

“It’s a – a clasp here on the hook, too,” Dana wrenched back what sounded like something metal, tossing aside the blade once she apparently realized she could bend metal with her bare hands. The cow released a sound that was half moo, half grunt. 

“Dana,” Marty approached her as gingerly as possible, willing himself to ignore the sting in his throat that seemed to be spreading to his chest. “Let’s think about this. If you cut down the cow, it’s gonna fall all the way to the floor, probably on its head.”

“We can’t leave her!” Dana protested in a way that had him wondering how much of this was actually about the cow.

Wondering for a horrible second if Dana might snap the beast’s neck, Marty narrowly missed the massive beast as it fell. Sure enough, following an ugly crack, the animal lay writhing before them. 

“I couldn’t let it die like that,” Dana insisted in a voice that sounded on the edge of breaking. 

The moment Marty raised the pistol that they by some miracle hadn’t had to use for about 48 hours, Dana grasped the muzzle.

“I did this. I’ll end it,” she stated in a tone that sent shivers up his spine, before pulling the trigger.

With a final droning mewl, the thrashing stilled. 

Not several seconds could have passed before indignance rose in Marty’s throat – that delectable scent of fresh meat receded a hair. His throat and sternum screamed at him.

“Are you okay?” he placed a hand on her shoulder, as she seemed to go from studying the downed beast to the weapon in her hands. With a pang of guilt, he realized this was likely yet another reminder of seeing their friends butchered. At least for him, the animal's dead gize only brought images of Jules' disembodied head dangling from that zombie freak's grip.

“You think it’ll work on me?”

The words hung in the air like the lingering scent of bile.

“You’re not…” he wracked his brain to find the best response to an insane question. “Dana, you’re not going to die. You don’t _have_ to die. Look…when the full moon happens, we’ll figure it out. We have time until then.”

“I’m not sure it’s a full moon deal,” her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “It wasn’t a full moon when that thing found us the way it did. Marty, I think it comes at night. I feel it growing inside me every minute. Last night, I’ve never felt like that.”

Marty cleared his throat, wincing at the ache. “I’d like to take that as a compliment, but…I’m not sure that’s what you mean.”

When she finally turned to look him in the eye, that blue gaze shone a mix of crazed, sorrow and hunger.

“I don’t – I don’t _want_ to think about the future anymore. Finding other survivors, other people…I know I should, but Marty, I just don’t care anymore.”

“So, what do you care about?” he asked, focusing on his breathing to control both the pain in his chest and rising fear for his friend. 

“I’m starving.”

Those were the final words to leave her lips before she dropped to her knees, turned back around and began gnawing on the edge of the bullet wound just below the cow’s partially drained eye socket. 

He should have been retching, spewing his guts onto the floor, screaming for her to stop – but instead, he just watched her. Once she noticed his stillness and glanced back up to lick the red from her lips with a grin that made him realize he was already fully hard, he didn’t have time to react before she pulled him to the crimson tile along with her.

Immediately capturing his lips in their first proper kiss, he felt his heart thudding against his ribcage at how freakishly intoxicating he found her unique scent mixed with the odor of a fresh kill.

“Dana, I…”

“You’re more into this than I expected,” she purred, palming his dick through his jeans. All at once, he realized those innocent eyes he'd come to admire had given way to a predator's gaze.

She managed to pop the button on his fly before a searing pain in his throat shattered his reverie. Last night. He’d tasted her. _Devoured_ her. The infection. 

No. _Fuck_ no. 

Glancing up toward the two windows he could just make out through the space between the dangling meat sacks, he knew this was it. He needed to run, escape, get the hell out of there.

Slipping on the bloodied floor, Marty ignored both his throbbing arousal and the ache in his throat that screamed at him to just let this happen already. For the first time, he shoved all guilt over Dana toward the back of his mind, as self-preservation took over. 

No, no way. That wasn’t how any of the legends said this worked. Those dicks at the facility couldn’t possibly have engineered—

He barely made it past the final meat sack before Dana wrenched him back, drawing him into another fervent kiss. “You did this, Marty. You ended the world. You said you wanted it this way. It’s time to leave humanity behind and give ourselves a real chance. That wouldn’t have been possible with that infection in your back killing you. I could smell it before you even woke up yesterday.”

Yes, he'd wanted the damn world to collapse. Now, for the first time, he wondered how seriously he had considered what might happen if he dissolved along with it.

Turning once more toward the doors, he began to realize that the melody of her voice, throb in his throat and the pulse between his legs had achieved a terrifying harmony. 

The primal awakening overwhelmed him the moment he stepped out of the shop into the cool night and the glow of the pale half-moon through the sparse trees. This time when she tackled him, he didn’t resist.

He only basked in how each moment beneath the moonlight seemed to alleviate the ache in his throat, as she ripped the button and zipper from his jeans, destroying most of his waistband in the process. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” she seethed in that husky tone – or cooed, he couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he didn’t care. Whether this was pure desperation to feel something beyond the end of everything or simply the effects of werewolf pheromones, it hardly mattered. Channeling all of his frustration and sorrow, he batted her hands away from his waist to rip off her thick belt.

“I knew you’d want this,” she giggled. “And here I was gonna offer to be gentle for your first time.”

If this was back at school, he may have thought about the ramifications for their friendship. He may have thought of that freak babysitter Stacey or the bruising hand of his father. 

But he wasn’t at school or at home. He was here in the forest, and he couldn’t be bothered to even smile in triumph as Dana once again lost those pants, ripped up her own panties with human nails, and impaled herself on him to with a chorus of moans that seemed to echo in the brisk pre-dawn air. 

The moment that smooth, narrow heat enveloped him, all concerns flooded away. He didn’t care that his pants were still around his thighs, didn’t even care that he’d likely finish before her again. More than anything, he just needed that release.

Thrusting up into her while pulling on her hips in a way that teased the underside of his shaft with a sweetness that defied words, he found he couldn’t even describe the unique sensation of a ridge amidst the softness.

“ _Fuck, Dana_ ”, he wheezed as her hands found fistfuls of his hair, the ache in his throat and back now gone by the light of the moon, as he railed into her from below.

“Can you hear it, too?” Dana asked, riding him painfully slow, when he would have been happiest driving each other into the leaves. “The forest?”

He could. The worms in the earth, the nesting birds and opossums. The acidic shower that hadn’t quite stopped but it didn’t matter, because the searing droplets no longer stung.

Instinct about to take over, he pulled her down just enough to manage grinding his pelvis against her clit to give her some friction, fingertips digging into her thighs hard enough to break skin - on human flesh, anyway. Barely panting, Dana moaned through the delicious squelch of their bodies meeting amidst her slick and the blood of the fresh kill they had waiting for them inside. Catching a glimpse of her pearl flesh in the dim light, he grasped the back of her neck to bring her in for a bruising kiss. When instead of her lips, those teeth found his throat at the same time as two fingertips wandered beneath their joined bodies to ghost over his opening, he lost it. 

His climax hit him so hard, all thoughts went black for a split second as his own teeth found the pulse point beneath her ear. The risk of not withdrawing, the rustling breeze and lives of the insects and bats in the surrounding trees fell away to the blissful oblivion of quaking limbs and agonizing euphoria.

Perhaps the best part of all was how Dana milked him for every last drop, hands tangled in his hair that was now a mix of scarlet and earth. At least the way she panted in his ear and spasmed around him assured him she’d reached her own peak. 

“…Good boy,” she breathed in an endearing hiss that tickled his earlobe. 

For whatever reason, that was the moment the last vestiges of an old life welled up in his memory – of a day long ago in a reality far away when he’d studied that sometimes dull, other times brilliant subject called poetry. 

“This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.”

Much like the sound that escaped his lips at the soft caress of her fingers through his hair, as she eased him into the brave new world they now faced. 

Those gods had nothing on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I not see this film for the first time until about a week ago? Yikes.


End file.
